Web of Lies

26

“Fuck,” I said.

“Fuck is right,” he replied. “Because no hooker in her right mind would try to get in the middle of that sandwich.”

My eyes slipped past Dawson and studied the three people he was standing with. Of course, I’d met Jonah McAllister in person yesterday, when he’d come to the Pork Pit to threaten me into dropping the charges against his son, Jake. The slick-talking lawyer looked distinguished and handsome in his tuxedo, and his thick mane of hair resembled silver that had somehow been swirled around his head.

I hadn’t had any dealings with Elliot Slater, the giant enforcer who ran Mab’s security detail and took care of any problems the Fire elemental didn’t feel like dealing with herself. Slater was one of the tallest giants in attendance, if not the tallest. His seven-foot figure loomed over the crowd. He wasn’t quite as wide as he was tall, but his frame was all solid, compact muscle. A cut with one of my knives would have felt like a bee sting to him.

Slater’s complexion was pale, almost albino, and his tousled thatch of blond hair disappeared into his large skull. His eyes were a light hazel, and the only real color on his chalky face. A large diamond ring flashed on his pinkie. Another inch or two, and I could have worn it as a bracelet.

And then there was Mab Monroe herself. The Fire elemental was a few inches shorter than me, but she radiated raw power, even more so than Elliot Slater did. Her hair was as red as polished copper and curled softly to her shoulders. In contrast, her eyes were a deep, liquid black. Ink would look dull and diluted next to her gaze.

Fire and brimstone. That’s what Mab Monroe always reminded me of.

The Fire elemental wore a floor-length evening gown done in an emerald green that made her hair seem even redder than it actually was. She wore no jewelry except for a flat gold necklace that ringed her throat. My eyes focused on the centerpiece of the design. A circular orange ruby a little smaller than my fist surrounded by several dozen wavy rays. The intricate diamond cutting on the gold caught the light and made it seem as though the rays were actually flickering. A sunburst. The symbol for fire.

Mab’s personal rune, used by her alone. For a moment, I sensed the ruby’s vibrations. The gemstone whispered of raw, fiery power. The sound meshed perfectly with the shrieking stone of the mansion. Both made my stomach clench.

As I looked at Mab, I couldn’t help but think about the file Fletcher Lane had left me on the murder of my family — and the piece of paper he’d tucked inside with Mab Monroe’s name on it. Again, I wondered why Fletcher had written down the Fire elemental’s name.

Had Fletcher concluded that she’d murdered my family?

Had he merely suspected her? Or had he put her name in there for another reason entirely—

“Earth to Gin,” Finn murmured in my ear.

I focused on the here and now once more. “How long have they been standing there talking?”

“Not long,” Finn said. “I’d say you have another five or ten minutes before Mab and the others drift off.”

“All right. Keep an eye on them.”

“What are you going to do?”

I stared out at the glittering mass of people. “Find someplace quiet to take care of Tobias Dawson, once I get my hooks into him.”

——

Finn promised to keep watching Tobias Dawson, and we both hung up. I tucked the cell phone back into the purse Roslyn had given me. It was a tiny thing, but I’d managed to stick one of my silverstone knives inside, along with the compact and tube of healing ointment Jo-Jo Deveraux had provided a few days ago. I didn’t think Dawson would go down easily, and I wanted to have some healing supplies on hand in case the dwarf got a couple of shots in on me before he died. I couldn’t exactly sneak out of Mab Monroe’s party unnoticed if I was bruised and bloody from head to toe.

I grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the giant waiters and headed toward the back of the ballroom. The grand staircase was shaped like a T, and two hallways ran underneath either side of it and connected the ballroom to the other wings of the mansion. I strolled down the left hallway, peering into the rooms I passed. I couldn’t very well kill Tobias Dawson on the ballroom floor, so I needed to find a more secluded spot I could lure the dwarf to before I stabbed him to death.

But the hallway wasn’t as deserted as I’d hoped. I passed several couples standing against the walls or inside the interior rooms, just out of sight of the ballroom. Some talked softly. Others stared into each other’s eyes and sipped champagne. A few necked. But at least one person in every couple wore a heart-and-arrow rune that marked him or her as a hooker from Northern Aggression.

One man wearing the rune necklace grimaced as his vampire paramour sank her fangs deep into his exposed throat. Her eager, sucking sounds reminded me of a kitten mewling. Another man, a dwarf, stood upright, his head tucked up underneath the dress and his face buried in the crotch of a giant woman wearing the rune necklace.

I didn’t have to guess what he was doing with his tongue.

The giant had a decidedly bored look on her face. She cooed false encouragement to the dwarf, even as she examined her nails as if debating whether or not she needed a fresh manicure. The giant saw me staring. Her brown eyes landed on the rune necklace around my throat, and she shrugged as if to say, What can you do? I returned her shrug and walked on.

One thing I didn’t see back here were any giant guards.

Mab Monroe probably didn’t want her more amorous guests to feel like they were being watched. Having a giant loom over you would give just about anyone performance anxiety.

I came to a cross corridor and paused. To my left, another set of doors led out onto the terrace. Another hallway stretched out in front of me, while another one veered right, snaking back underneath the staircase. I turned right and walked deeper into the mansion. The partygoers hadn’t gotten too serious about their sexual gymnastics just yet, so this area was deserted. I passed a couple of rooms, none concealed enough for my liking. It wouldn’t do any good for me to kill Tobias Dawson and have someone find his body a minute later. I was going to need longer than that to slip out of the mansion after I’d done the job.

So I strolled through the rooms, sipped my champagne, and pretended to admire Mab Monroe’s tasteful furnishings while I looked for a spot to stiff Dawson.

One thing actually did catch my interest — a series of rune paintings, not unlike the drawings I had propped up on the mantel in Fletcher Lane’s den.

My eyes flicked over the runes mounted on the wall opposite the back of the staircase. A sunburst. A lit match. A teardrop-shaped flame licking at the paper it was on. The framed pieces all had to do with fire or heat in some way, and all were done in burnt siennas, bloody oranges, fiery yellows. It seemed Mab and I shared the same taste in something besides killing people. Weird. And disturbing.

As I stared at the paintings, an uneasy shiver tickled my spine like a cold finger. Something about the artwork resonated on a primal level with me. Here, something old and knowing whispered in the back of my mind. Here is your enemy.

Not an unusual thought for a Stone elemental to have while in the house of a Fire, or vice versa. Opposing elements just didn’t mesh — and neither did their human counterparts. Air against Ice, Fire against Stone. An old, predictable story. I’d heard that voice, felt this unease, before in other places with other elementals. But never this intense.

Again, I wondered about Mab Monroe’s name being in Fletcher’s folder. I’d been blindfolded so I hadn’t seen the bitch’s face back then, only heard her cackling laughter as she tortured me. But it could have been Mab. Rumor put her current age at about forty-five. She would have had enough power, even seventeen years ago, to do all the horrible things that had taken place that night. But why?

Why had she murdered my mother, Eira, and my older sister, Annabella? Why had she wanted to kill me? Why had she demanded to know where my baby sister Bria was above all else? I just didn’t understand why—

Footsteps whispered on the carpet off to my right, and a large, beefy hand clamped onto my ass and squeezed — hard.

“Hello there, sweetness,” a male voice said. “If your front looks as tight as your ass, I’m in for a real good time tonight.”

He put his other hand on my opposite shoulder and turned me around. I let him and plastered a smile on my face, my lips ready to form an excuse to get rid of the ogling bastard.

I found myself looking up at Jake McAllister. The Fire elemental had traded in his rock-star jeans and vintage T-shirt for a tuxedo. It didn’t improve his looks. His body was still too beefy, his face still puffed out with baby fat.

He looked like an oversize kid playing dress-up in his daddy’s clothes. But the important thing was that he was here and staring at me.

Of all the people I could have run into here tonight, the possibility one of them would be Jake McAllister had never crossed my mind. So much had been going on the past few days I’d relegated Jake and his threat to kill me to the back burner. But luck, that capricious bitch, had decided to fuck me over once again.

Jake frowned, as though he knew me from somewhere but just couldn’t place me. Then, recognition dawned on his beefy face.

“You!” he hissed.

——

Jake McAllister stared at me. A cruel smile spread across his face, making his cheeks puff out that much more. “You shouldn’t have come here tonight, bitch. Because we’re on my side of town now, and I’m going to kill you.” His brown eyes landed on the heart-and-arrow rune around my neck. “After I fuck you a couple of times.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You want me? Come and get me, you bastard.”

I slammed my fist into his windpipe. Jake’s face went beet-red, and he struggled for air. While he was gasping for breath, I drove my other fist into his stomach.

First one, then the other. Thwack-thwack. Like kneading dough. He bent over, and I hurried away, moving deeper into the mansion.

My desire to find a quiet area to kill someone had just turned into a necessity. I had to finish Jake McAllister now. He was right. This was his turf, or at least Mab Monroe’s turf, and I had no doubt the Fire elemental would let Jake do whatever he wanted to with me — if I didn’t take care of him first before he could sound the alarm. My eyes swept back and forth over the open doors and rooms I passed. There. That would do.

I looked over my shoulder. Jake McAllister had struggled to his feet. I blew him a kiss. His face reddened, and he lumbered down the hallway in my direction. I stepped inside the room, found the spot I wanted, palmed one of my silverstone knives, and waited. Ten… twenty… thirty… I counted off the seconds in my head.

Jake McAllister was quicker than I’d given him credit for — or just more pissed off. Only forty-five seconds passed before he charged into the room.

“Where are you, bitch?” he growled. “I saw you come in here.”

I didn’t respond. Let McAllister figure it out for himself.

“Hiding from me, huh, bitch?” he laughed. “I knew you’d be running scared of me sooner or later.”

I rolled my eyes at his foolish assumption, but still I waited. Heavy footsteps sounded on the tile floor. McAllister’s shadow crept closer and closer to my hiding place.

I tensed, gathering my strength. If he got away from me, if he screamed, it was over. I had to kill him with the first strike.

Jake McAllister threw back the shower curtain I was standing behind. The Fire elemental had reached for his magic during his lumber down the hall. The power reddened his eyes, and sparks snapped and hissed around his fat fingertips. His gaze met mine, and he smiled.

“There you are, bitch—”

Last words he ever said.

With one hand, I grabbed McAllister’s tuxedo jacket and pulled him forward, so that his torso was directly above the bathtub I was standing in. With my other hand, I shoved my silverstone knife up to the hilt in his chest.

The blade scraped his ribs before plunging into his heart.

Not the best blow I’d ever made, but effective enough.

Jake McAllister’s magic snuffed out like a candle in a hurricane. The fiery sparks puffed away, and the red glow vanished from his eyes. His arms jerked and flailed against me, connecting with my chest. I grunted at the heavy, solid blows, but I didn’t dare reach for my Stone magic to harden my own skin. Any elemental in close vicinity would sense the power surge. Stones were the rarest of elementals, and any magic user who felt that kind of power would be curious about who was using it and why.

Jake opened his mouth to scream. I left the knife where it was in his heart, clamped my hand over his fat lips, and yanked him forward so the blood gushing out of his chest would fall into the bathtub and not spatter onto the tile floor. And so we stood there, seesawing back and forth over the tub, Jake McAllister trying to jerk away, and me pulling him closer, my hands digging into his face.

After about thirty seconds, Jake’s legs wobbled and gave way. His eyes glazed over, and his mouth slackened underneath my hand. I dropped my fingers from his lips.

Jake coughed twice. Blood sputtered out of his lips and flecked the front of my dress. Nothing I could do about that right now. So I put both hands on his suit jacket and dragged him forward. He was heavy, and it took some muscle to flip his legs up and over the side of the tub and then to lower his whole body down the steps and into the bottom without letting him thump down. By the time I was done, Jake McAllister was dead, and I was a sweaty, bloody mess.

First things first. I shut the bathroom door. Then I went back over to Jake McAllister. The bathtub was the fancy marble kind that was more like a small pool than a tub and sat on a raised dais. A couple of steps led up to the rim, and several more led down into the square pool.

I got down into the bottom with Jake. The first thing I did was to retrieve my knife from his chest and lay it on the edge of the tub. Then I maneuvered him so his back was facing the rest of the room. I curled his hands under head and splayed out his legs to make it look as though he’d had too much to drink and had crawled into the tub to sleep it off. At least at first glance. If someone turned Jake over, they’d see the blood on his shirt and in the bottom of the tub. But hopefully, I’d be long gone by the time that happened.

Once that was done, I climbed out and assessed the damage. The tub also featured several shower heads which were set into the walls at various angles, hence the curtain that cordoned the area off from the rest of the bathroom.

The shower curtain was a rich burgundy flecked with gold — and now blood. But unless you peered closely at it, you wouldn’t realize the spatter wasn’t part of the intended pattern.

Some of Jake’s blood had also sprayed onto the marble tile in front of the tub. I grabbed a burgundy washcloth, wet it, and used it to mop up all the stray flecks and specks. I also cleaned off my knife and tucked it back up the sleeve of my dress. The smell of warm copper filled my nose, but I blocked it out — along with the murmur of the marble under my feet. Instead of the dark tone I’d expected, the stone practically sang with giddiness — as though having fresh blood spilled on it made it happy.

The noise made my stomach twist.

I worked quickly, quietly. It had taken me less than two minutes to kill Jake McAllister. Nobody should have missed him yet, but I wasn’t taking any chances by moving slowly. Once I had the blood wiped up from the floor in front of the tub, I drew the curtain, hiding it and McAllister’s body from sight.

In addition to the tub, the bathroom featured two toilets made out of what looked like real gold. They lay opposite two sinks done in a burgundy marble with streaks of white swirled through it. A gilt-edged mirror flanked the wall above the counter. I stared at myself in the glass, assessing the damage Jake McAllister had done to me with his dying struggles. The bastard’s coughing had spattered blood all over my chest. I used the wet washcloth to mop up the blood on my exposed skin, then wrung it out, wet it again, and scrubbed the remaining blood out of my wig. It was harder getting the gobs of blood out of the fake blond tresses, but I managed well enough.

Once that was done, I went to work on my dress. I used some liquid soap from a bottle on the counter and rubbed it into the biggest blood splotches. Since the fabric was black, you couldn’t tell what the stain was, just that I’d gotten something on me. But I managed to get most of the blood out.

My eyes swept over the bathroom again, but there was no visible sign anything out of the ordinary had happened in here tonight. I carefully folded the burgundy washcloth and laid it back in its original spot next to the bathtub.

While I waited for the damp spots on my dress to dry, I rummaged in my purse and pulled out a pressed powder compact I’d brought, along with some lipstick. I’d gotten sweaty during my struggle with Jake McAllister, and I touched up my makeup into its heavy mask once more.

I’d just popped open the lipstick to finish fixing my face when the door to the bathroom opened — and Mab Monroe stepped inside.